


Wrong Turn

by Magz (sparklepocalypse)



Series: The Five-Alarm 'Verse [6]
Category: Black Hawk Down (2001)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-08
Updated: 2015-08-08
Packaged: 2018-04-13 15:53:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,409
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4528119
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sparklepocalypse/pseuds/Magz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was two and a half months before they saw each other again. Sequel to "Breathe."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wrong Turn

For the hundredth time since Dale had gotten back his grades from the University, he wondered what the  _hell_ he was doing. Driving.  _Driving_ to North Carolina, when he knew that Mom would've arranged a flight for him if he'd asked.

He supposed it'd just been important that he arrange his own transportation, this time.

At first, he'd tried to convince himself that he was headed down South to visit some of his Ranger buddies. Never mind that the Rangers were stationed at Benning, and that Bragg -- home of the Deltas -- was his destination. He told himself that he just wanted to see people he knew. Soldiers. His friends in Chicago were great, but they weren't soldiers. Soldiers -- people who he'd die for, and who'd die for him -- they were family.

Then his hand slid up his thigh and rested on top of a pocket that crinkled very softly when he pressed his fingers down onto it, and all pretense of seeing any Rangers at all that weekend, faded.

Kurt. Kurt was the reason he'd packed his things and climbed into his truck after that letter from school had arrived. A 3.0 was a perfectly good reason to reward himself with a trip to see his -- well, they'd never really defined what they were, only that they were _something_. And Kurt was Dale's, and Dale was Kurt's, and that was enough.

Dale could commiserate with the many people in the city who had such issues with labeling things. Besides, just knowing they were _something_ made this drive worth it. Except.

What if Kurt had moved on? Two months without seeing the person you... care about... is a long time. Especially with just a few sessions of phone sex to tide you over. Dale was sure that there were some Deltas who would love to have Kurt in their beds. He was so warm and willing. So patient and intense.

The first thing Dale wanted to do when he got down there was to strip Kurt naked and just stare. He wanted to map every inch of Kurt's skin with his eyes. And hands. And then his tongue. To catalog new scars and bruises. To discover, finally, the _taste_ of him.

It was something he'd never done -- to take another man's cock into his mouth, to suck on it until he came. The idea had always made him a little squeamish, more than fucking or being fucked had ever done, but he found that he wanted to. With Kurt. Somehow the thought of the noises Kurt would make, and the way he'd look when Dale released his softening dick... that would make it worth it.

Shit. Now he was hard, and painfully so, pressed against the zipper of his jeans. He adjusted himself carefully.

Five minutes later, his truck was parked out of the way at a rest stop, far from any other vehicles.

Five minutes after that, as if reacting to a startling noise, a flock of birds near the truck took to the sky.

 

Kurt slumped down in a chair after the final casualty of the monthly Delta football game limped out of the infirmary with one ankle wrapped and his right arm in a sling. Sometimes he thought the men would never learn. Helmets were the only accessory that they wore that proved they realized their own mortality. This afternoon he'd fixed three dislocated shoulders, a broken hand, two sprained knees and too many twisted ankles to count, and he was exhausted.

He glanced at the clock. Three more hours in his shift. He leaned back and stretched with a sigh, then turned to his notes. "Patient: Johnson. Injuries sustained..." he mumbled aloud as he wrote.

"Christ, Schmid, you look like hell." Tim Harris, the night medic, strolled into the room and plopped down on a stool opposite Kurt. "What happened?"

Kurt set down his pen and notebook, and then ran a hand through his hair. "Football," he grumbled. "You're early."

"Two hours and fifty minutes early, in fact," Harris replied good-naturedly. "Someone called you in a favor. You're done at quarter-past."

Kurt heaved another sigh, this one of relief. "Who do I have to thank?" He quickly jotted down the rest of his notes, then closed the book and capped the pen.

"Me, of course," Harris joked. "And Bryant at the switchboard, I think. He mentioned something about your guest wanting to know where you were."

Guest? Kurt screwed his face up into something he hoped looked fairly calm. He hoped his surprise wasn't too evident. "Thanks, Harris."

Harris waved him off. "Just put a pot of coffee on before you leave. I couldn't make a decent cup to save my life."

"I wouldn't even call that sludge I found in the pot on Monday morning, 'coffee'. More like toxic waste." Kurt headed over to the counter where the coffee maker sat. "Didn't your mother ever teach you to turn the machine off after it's done brewing, so you don't end up with mud that takes forever to clean out of the pot?"

"I'll thank you to leave my momma out of this, Schmid." Harris turned on the stool to face a small sink and reached for a bar of disinfectant soap. "She only drinks tea."

"One heaping tablespoon per cup, Harris. It's not rocket science." He pushed the basket into place and filled the water reservoir, then flipped the switch to turn the coffee maker on.

Harris dried his hands off. "You know, Schmid, if you're not nicer to me, I'll change my mind about filling in for you."

Kurt scooped up his notebook and pen and pulled his jacket from a coat peg near the door. "Shut up and drink your damn coffee, Harris," he replied, feeling remarkably more energetic than he had just a few minutes before.

 

Dale pulled up in front of a modest duplex and cut the engine of his truck. He double-checked the thoroughly wrinkled scrap of paper on which Kurt's address was written, scrubbed a hand through his hair, and got out of the pickup. Closed the door and leaned against it.

_"If you ever find yourself taking a wrong turn and ending up in North Carolina, just call the base and leave a message for me at the switchboard," Kurt said, pressing close and sliding one hand up under the hem of Dale's tee shirt to rub his lower back. "I usually go out with some of the guys when I get off infirmary duty, but if you're nice to me I'll make an exception."_

_"If I'm nice to you?" Dale asked with a grin. "What do you mean by nice?"_

_"Hmm..." Kurt murmured as he pretended to think about it. "For starters, I'll have to confiscate your clothing for the duration of your visit."_

_"That does sound nice," Dale said. "What else?"_

_"A minimum of twenty-four hours' restriction to the bedroom," Kurt said immediately. "For security purposes, you understand."_

_"Absolutely." Dale leaned his forehead against Kurt's with a little sigh. "Is it okay to tell you I'm going to miss you?"_

_"Only if you pair it with goodbye," Kurt replied. He pressed a crinkling slip of paper into Dale's hand. "Get lost sometime, huh?" Brushing a kiss across Dale's cheek, he reached for the doorknob behind him and turned it. "See you."_

_Dale wrapped his fingers around the back of Kurt's neck and pulled him in for a long, slow kiss. "See you," he said when they pulled back, and smiled._

_Kurt slipped out the door and closed it behind himself._

_Dale turned to face his empty apartment._

Dale pushed himself away from his truck and glanced down the street. He'd seen a payphone at the convenience store on the corner, just a few hundred feet back. Clutching the scrap of paper with a new determination, he set off in the direction of the store.

He had a phone call to make.

 

Kurt stepped out into the bright May afternoon and pushed his sunglasses up his nose, slinging his jacket over his shoulder. He ducked between two Humvees, watching as several soldiers in regulation sweats jogged past.

Approaching his car in the small lot behind the infirmary building, Kurt juggled his pen, notebook, and jacket while he dug into his pocket and fished out his keys. He unlocked the door and slipped into driver's seat, leaning back and rolling his neck. Then he tossed his notebook and jacket onto the passenger seat, adjusted the mirrors, and turned the key.

Company. Huh.

 

Dale got back into his truck. Got back out again. Headed up the walk to Kurt's door once, and turned back for the truck again. Took two steps toward the house.

Twenty minutes later, he was exploring the small yard on Kurt's side of the duplex when a blue sedan pulled into the driveway.

He stood up straight and turned toward the car.

 

Kurt slid out of the car, his notebook, pen, and jacket in his hand. He locked the driver's side door and shuffled the things in his hands while he stuffed his keys back in his pocket.

He hadn't been this bone-tired since the Mog, and all he wanted to do was to take a nice, hot, relaxing bath and listen to some soft music until he felt better. And he was going to do just that, once his legs decided to move. He was going to --

"Kurt?"

He pivoted on the ball of his left foot and dropped his things in surprise. "Dale?" He took one tentative step toward Dale, then another.

By the time Dale started moving toward him, too, Kurt was jogging.

They met in the middle in a fierce hug, arms wrapped tightly around each other. An overwhelming wave of _good_ passed over them both, and they were blindsided by how incredible it felt to just be touching one another again.

"What are you doing here?" Kurt asked, slightly dazed, when they separated.

Dale grinned. "Well, I don't really know what happened. One minute I was getting onto I-94 via the wrong on-ramp, and the next thing I knew I was in front of your place."

Kurt smiled in return. "You got lost," he murmured.

"Sort of accidentally on purpose, you might say," Dale replied.

They stared at each other for a moment longer. Finally, Kurt seemed to snap out of his haze and smiled. "Come inside. Let me just get my things..."

"I've got them," Dale said, and hurried over to where Kurt's jacket, notebook, and pen lay. "You're tired. Go on ahead." He scooped up the items and followed along behind Kurt, who was headed up the front steps onto his small porch.

Kurt unlocked his front door, opened it, and tossed his keys on the small table that stood just inside. Then he turned and leaned against the doorframe, watching as Dale ambled up his walkway.

 

Dale hesitated for a moment before ascending the final step that would bring him up onto the porch. He looked down at his feet, then up at Kurt. "I wanted to come sooner," he said quietly, and climbed the remaining stair, approaching him.

"You're here now," Kurt said, like that was enough.

Maybe, Dale thought as he stepped past and into the house, maybe it was.

 

The click of the door latch was loud in the otherwise quiet entryway. Kurt rubbed the back of his neck. "Um. So, do you want the grand tour?"

Dale pushed him up against the nearest wall and pressed his face into the crook of Kurt's neck. "Just give me general directions," he said, and breathed in deep. Then he pulled back and grimaced. "Antiseptic and Old Spice are not so good a combination," he said.

"I was going to take a bath," Kurt offered. Truth was, he was itching to get into civvies. Or into nothing at all.

"That sounds like a serious job," Dale said. "Why don't you let me lend a hand?"

"Only if you promise not to flood my bathroom," Kurt replied. "You get even a _small_ puddle on the floor and it starts dripping into the kitchen." He placed his hand in the middle of Dale's chest, and, fingers splayed, nudged him away. "Follow me."

He felt Dale staring at his ass all the way up the stairs.

 

When Kurt's shirt hit the floor, Dale turned away and breathed deep. If he watched Kurt strip, he wouldn't be able to control himself. And without control, a lake would form in Kurt's kitchen. Instead, he looked everywhere but at Kurt, although a glance in the mirror above the sink, displaying Kurt's body as he stepped into the bathtub, nearly proved to be Dale's undoing.

He waited for soft splashing noises to turn around and approach the tub.

"Want to come in?" Kurt asked, and patted the surface of the water. "It's nice and warm, and there's plenty of room."

"If I do, your kitchen will never forgive me," Dale replied, and knelt on the soft mat next to the tub. "Pass me the shampoo?"

Kurt frowned, but handed the bottle over. "You sure you don't want to..."

"Get your hair wet," Dale instructed. When Kurt sank down into the water, splashing around a little, Dale determinedly did not move his gaze from the place Kurt's head had just been. He reached down and adjusted himself through his jeans, and closed his eyes for a moment to steady his breathing.

Kurt emerged from the water, his hair slicked back and dripping.

At the touch of Kurt's wet fingers to his cheek, Dale's eyes fluttered open. "Hi," he said, and offered a sheepish smile. He snapped open the shampoo bottle and squeezed a generous amount into his left palm, then closed the bottle again and set it on the edge of the tub. He placed his hands atop the wet mass on Kurt's head. Several strands curled around his fingers.

Eyes fluttering closed, Kurt replied, "That feels good." He pushed up against Dale's massaging hands with a sigh.

Dale smiled. "I know." He combed his fingers through Kurt's soapy hair, sure it was clean but wanting the excuse to continue playing with it. "Dunk," he said, and his hands followed Kurt down as he slid back into the bathwater and tilted his head back. He scrubbed Kurt's hair underwater and trailed his fingers down as Kurt slid back up, so his hands rested on his shoulders.

There was a slightly ragged patch of skin on Kurt's left shoulder. "What's this from?" Dale asked. He was sure that it hadn't been there the last time he'd had the opportunity to touch.

"Never get between a Delta who's bigger than you and the goal line," he said, and smiled self-effacingly. "Normally you'd never see an operator cause a comrade to fall, but when it comes down to a tied game and the losing team has to be up at the crack of dawn to run the perimeter of the base, things get bloody."

"Hmm," Dale said, and rubbed the scar. "Did you win?"

"You bet your ass we did." Kurt's smile blossomed into a full-fledged grin. "Hoot was on base that day."

"So he carried the game?" Dale's hand slipped lower, his thumb brushing Kurt's collarbone.

Kurt huffed out a laugh. "Hoot could carry every member of the team and still score enough touchdowns to leave the other side in the dust."

"Hoot's a little scary," Dale admitted, and submerged his hand in the warm bathwater, tracing patterns over Kurt's chest. Kurt's breath hitched and Dale smiled just a little.

"Nah," Kurt said. He sank down further into the water so only his knees, neck, and head were exposed. "He's a great guy. He can just get a little intense sometimes."

"Yeah, in that 'I can break you in half while charming your friends enough to keep them from screaming in horror' sort of way," Dale replied.

"Not denying that," Kurt murmured, and arched slightly into Dale's hands as his fingers spread. "Just saying you should get to know the guy. He wouldn't bother you then." Then he pressed more noticeably upwards. "But enough about Hoot." He grabbed Dale by the upper arms and tugged him forward until their lips met. "Tease," he muttered against Dale's mouth.

"Mm," Dale agreed.

 

Kurt felt the sheets on his bed absorb the wetness from his skin as Dale pushed him onto it. He shifted restlessly, watching as Dale ripped his shirt over his head and shucked off his jeans with one long, sinuous wriggle. His cock throbbed. He dragged himself further up the mattress so only a foot dangled off the edge, and stretched.

Then Dale was on the bed, one leg between his, and his hands were everywhere at once, rolling his nipples and scratching down his thighs and caressing his ribs and twining fingers with his and stroking his cock and cupping his balls and _ohgod_ , Dale's tongue was on his dick and Kurt had never felt so good. His whole body curled in towards Dale's mouth, demanding more of that gentle suction with shudders and spasms.

Kurt's fingers trembled as he just barely held back from grabbing Dale by the back of the head and thrusting, because damned if Kurt hadn't wanted that pretty, soft mouth wrapped around his cock from the first moment he'd seen him, and he wouldn't fuck this up by losing control. Instead he settled for petting Dale's head and shoulders, urging him on low groans and the occasional squeaky little whimper that would've embarrassed him, had he not been completely distracted by that fucking mouth.

It was when Dale pulled off and licked the tip of Kurt's dick before taking over with his hand that Kurt felt his body uncurl a little, and he gasped, "Fuck." _Fuck_ , when what he wanted to say was _Holy shit, where'd you learn to suck out my spine like that?_

And Dale was staring up at him and smiling big, looking for all the world like the cat that ate the fucking canary, and he. Licked. His lips.

Suddenly Kurt couldn't say anything at all. Dale's mouth was back on his cock, his tongue rolling against the underside of the head, and then he sucked down hard. Kurt's fingers dug into the bedspread. As his eyes rolled back and his belly tightened, all he could see was Dale.

 

Dale's hips rocked slowly against the sheets as he nuzzled Kurt's twitching, softening dick. He whuffed breath out over the damp flesh and craned his neck to look up Kurt's body and Kurt was staring right back at him.

Chest heaving, lips chapped from biting them, Kurt swallowed convulsively, then grabbed Dale by the shoulders and hauled him up his body. Licked at his lips until they parted and then swirled his tongue inside when Dale opened his mouth with a moan. Bit across his jaw to his ear. "Fuck me," he muttered, mouthing a string of hot, biting kisses down Dale's throat.

Dale gasped and arched his neck. "Where -- "

Kurt groped blindly for his bedside table, finally brushing his fingers past it and catching the drawer knob on the way down. He yanked open the drawer and reached in, fumbling around until he found a smooth plastic bottle, which he drew out and handed to Dale. "Hurry," he said.

Panting, Dale flipped open the top of the bottle and slicked his fingers with the slippery gel inside. Kurt's dick was half-hard against his belly, brushing along his own as their hips came together and apart. "I can't -- " he began, moving up to his knees and pushing Kurt's legs apart, " -- you need to stop moving. I'm going to come before I even get inside you."

With a deep, shuddering breath, Kurt stilled. He rubbed Dale's arm instead, tense where it held Dale's entire weight as Dale pushed one, two, then three fingers inside him. His hips twitched. Dale fucked him with his fingers until he was quivering, then Kurt caught him by the wrist and pulled his hand away. "Enough," he rasped. "Fuck me."

"I -- " Dale grabbed for the bottle again, slicked up his cock, and hesitated.

Kurt grabbed him by the shoulders, pressed a thigh to either side of Dale's hips, and rolled them over so Dale was flat on his back on the bed. Then he reached behind him and held Dale's dick by the shaft as he sat on it. His eyes fluttered closed and he groaned. "Fuck. You feel huge." His hips rocked restlessly as he tried to find a good angle. Then, as a low pulse throbbed through him, he braced his hands on Dale's knees behind him and lifted up.

"Nngh," Dale said incoherently, trying to overcome the initial shock of being inside Kurt again. He grabbed his hips and held on while Kurt rode him. Kurt's torso looked long and lean, stretched over him. It was slick with sweat droplets that Dale wanted to follow with his tongue. He pushed himself up until he was sitting, then encircled Kurt's lower back with his arms and lapped at the hollow of his throat until he could taste Kurt's gasps through his skin.

Kurt draped an arm around the back of Dale's neck and rolled his hips. He rode him hard, thighs flexing and relaxing as he drank Dale's moans in with fierce kisses. His free hand moved from Dale's thigh to his own semi-hard cock and he palmed it gently. Stroked in a counter-rhythm to the pace of Dale's shaft inside him. Flung his head back as he hardened fully in his hand and his cockhead rubbed a streak along Dale's sweaty belly.

"Fuck," Dale gasped. "I want to fuck you on your back. Let me..." He trailed off as he tightened his arms around Kurt's waist and rolled them over so he lay between Kurt's splayed legs. Then he dug his knees into the mattress and thrust harder, faster than he'd been able to before. "Oh, fuck yeah. Like that -- that's what I wanted," he muttered.

Jerking off with quick, even strokes, Kurt forced his eyes open and looked up at Dale, admiring the planes and contours of his body. He reveled in the slaps of Dale's hips against his ass, in the staccato rhythm of his heart, and in their ragged breathing. He couldn't think of anything better. "Stay with me."

"What?" Dale's thrusts faltered slightly.

"Don't go back to Chicago," Kurt said, and reached up to stroke a sweaty strand of hair away from Dale's eyes. "Stay here with me."

"I..." Dale's eyes widened and he tensed. "Ah, fuck," he rasped, thrusting hard as he came. His arms trembled and gave out, and he landed half-atop Kurt, petting him weakly and panting.

Kurt switched his grip to his freer hand, twisting the arm that was underneath Dale until he could bring it up and bury his fingers in Dale's hair. He turned his face into Dale's shoulder, his tongue flicking out and tasting the salty-sweat of Dale's skin, and then he was coming again, and he hadn't come twice in a relatively short amount of time since he was sixteen.

They lay bonelessly for a long moment, and then Dale eased carefully back with a soft grunt, followed by a whole lot of silence that made Kurt a little nervous. "What is it?"

"We didn't, um..." Dale waved vaguely at their lower bodies and frowned.

"Didn't what -- " Kurt began, but stopped abruptly when he felt a telltale warmth trickling slowly out of his ass. "Oh." He sat up with a slight grimace at the twinges in his legs, laying a hand on Dale's arm. "I'm going to go get a washcloth to clean up with."

"But -- "

"You're clean, right?" Kurt asked as he eased onto his feet, holding onto the edge of the bed as his knees buckled slightly.

"Yeah, of course," Dale replied, and moved to get up as well.

Kurt reached out and rubbed Dale's arm. "Then don't worry about it. Stay here," he said.

Dale flopped back on the bed, covering his eyes with his forearm.

 

"When I was 25, one of my best friends had an HIV scare," Kurt said, reaching out and finding Dale's hand in the semi-darkness. "I'd gotten the standard always-use-a-condom lecture from my dad when he found out I was gay, but you know how it is when you get into the heat of the moment. Anyway, Dan -- my friend -- he called me up one day while I was on leave and he was about to lose his mind. He'd been sleeping with someone, unprotected, and as it turned out the guy had AIDS.

"It ended up that Dan was negative, but when we were talking and I was trying to calm him down, he... begged me never to forget to use a condom, because it could save my life. And I always remembered." He stroked his thumb over Dale's knuckles. "Until just now, that is."

Dale leaned his shoulder against Kurt's. "I don't think I could deal with making you sick."

"You won't," Kurt replied. He turned onto his side, draped an arm across Dale's chest, and kissed his temple. "Why'd you hesitate?"

"Hmm?" Dale rested his cheek against Kurt's. "Hesitate? I didn't -- "

"Before," Kurt said. "When you were lubing up. Why'd you hesitate?"

"Oh," Dale said. "I..." he swallowed. "I don't know." Except that it'd been so much, all of a sudden, when he'd been braced between Kurt's long legs with one hand on his cock and one hand on Kurt's thigh, getting ready to push inside him for the first time in way too long. Fucking overwhelming to have your _someone_ lying there all ready for you, and it was no wonder Dale had hesitated. He smiled. "Does it matter?"

Kurt shifted and petted Dale's arm. "Not so much," he said.

"Mm," Dale breathed. He slid his thumb over the rough skin at Kurt's elbow, then down his forearm. "Good." Then he rolled onto his side and wedged one of his feet between Kurt's.

"I want you to stay," Kurt said again, tightening his arms around Dale. "At least for the summer."

"I only brought enough stuff for a week," Dale said. He pressed his face to Kurt's shoulder.

"I have a laundry room," Kurt replied. "Think about it?"

"Yeah," Dale said. "I can do that."


End file.
